Come Back
by Jack And Honey
Summary: Prompt From tumblr by miserystoll. She asked for a Daryl Confession, seeing as there are so many Carol ones. Honestly, its a bit fluffy. But, ohwell. ONWARD fluff! Set right before Arrow in the doorpost. R


**Prompt: Daryl Confession From miserystoll on tumblr :D **  
**no ownership, of course. **  
**Reviews make my day! **  
**_**_

Daryl Dixon paced in Her cell. (He couldn't even bother to think her name, knowing full well that he'd flee at the very thought)  
"Damnit damnit damnit all to hell!" He muttered under his breath, wrenching his hands through his hair as he knawed at his bottom lip, he tucked his thumbs into his armpits before leaning up against the wall.  
It wasn't five seconds before he was pacing again in the tiny cell.  
Damnit he hated these cells. Hated them, bloody things were cages. He wasn't a dog. He wouldn't sleep in no cage!  
(Though, this argument had become invalid due to the fact that the moment he had come back he had taken the cell next to Carol's -why, he still wasn't sure)  
(Okay, that was a lie, but whatever)  
Damn cages. He huffed, pacing again.

"Daryl?" Her voice called. He'd heard her come up, but hadn't the nerve to spin around and face her yet.  
So he'd stayed where he landed, with is head against the cold cement and arms folded.

"Sit down." He whizzed a hand out, pointing at the bed, not looking at her.

"Escuse me?" She asked with a frown. She was shocked to hear him bark so. He often was gruff with others when he was irritated. But he was always soft spoken with her.

"Please. sit." He told her, his voice softer, feeling guilty immediately for barking at her.

'No better than Ed. No better than her worthless frigging husband. Haven't shouted at her-' he stopped that train of thought in an instant. He wouldn't think on that. Think of the last time he'd shouted at her. How he'd gotten in her face, told her how Sophia wasn't his. How she'd flinched.  
No. He wouldn't think about that.

She let out a humph before sitting down

"I'm shit at this." He told her with a shudder through his gut.  
His chest burned, his ears burned, his gut clenched.  
He paced the length of the cell again, opining of it's own accord.

"I ain't good at this shit." He practically moaned, tugging at his hair again.  
He was thankful, so infinantly thankful that she kept quiet. She was good like that. Knew when to make him talk, when to talk at him, when to support him and - he huffed.

"My old man." He started out after a deep breath. "He didn't like weepy kids. You wept. You got hit. You cried out, you got hit harder." He a shudder wrack through him. "He did things…" his vision went black for a moment as he rambled, the vision of a large hand, of his fathers belt being unbuckled- of being tied down and- he shook his head violently, turning his back on her. He palmed at his eye sockets, feeling the metal plate under his left.  
"Whole life, you talked about feelings, got hit outta you."  
"I'm not good at this shit." With a movement, not unlike a fox skirting a hedge, he croutched down next to Carol and took her face in his palms.

"We're gonna go meet this Govonor. I don't doubt we'll be back, he ain't gonna kill us, no. This man's smarter than that." He took a deep breath, "but when we get back, it'll be war." He told her. "Ain't no ifs or ands ." he dropped his hands from her face, letting them trail down to her elbows.  
He looked down at his hands where they lay against her skin, he let his thumbs flick over her skin, watching as her breath quickened and the hairs on her arm stand up.  
He felt a chill run down his spine. He'd done that. Him. Not Axel, not Rick, Him.

Taking a breath, he looked up, catching her gaze. Blue, deeper blue than anything he'd ever seen.  
"Don't tell the others." He said quietly  
"But I know how Rick thinks. He's gonna say whatever it takes. Whatever it takes to make us scared." She nodded slowly, saying she understood. "The others, they need that. So they realize what's at stake. So they don't go runnin' but you don't." He flicked his thumbs again, feeling her skin under his fingertips.

"He's sick, Carol." He told her softly. "I've seen men like that. Men who use sex as a scare tactic." He closed his eyes.  
"You gotta promise me Carol, you meet him, you don't let him blink before you take his other eye. He will see you- and -and…." he choked for a moment.  
"You're mine. Ya hear?" He barked. "Mine. Ain't no one gets their hands on my woman. Ya hear?" He swiped away tears as they slipped past her lids.  
"Shit- Ca-Carol. Don't cry. God I hate when you cry." He told her. "Didn't mean to make you cry."

"No-no. It's fine." She shook her head, her hand landing over his. For such a gruff man, a man so hardened by life. The amount of sympathy he could posess was astounding.

"Don't let him hurt you. I'll do what I can, protect you but if I get killed, ya gotta promise me-" he closed his eyes, letting the image of her pale body, plyable under his hands, watching her back arch, her lips parting as she bit back a moan.  
But the vision soon changed as her moan turned into a scream as she was ravished by a faceless man with a patch over one eye.  
He gasped, his head falling into her lap, his arms wrapping around her abdomin.  
"Don't let me lose you." He mumbled into her chest. "You're all I got, Carol."

"That's not true." She mumbled, her hand running through his hair, scratching slightly at the oily scalp. He needed a haircut. Maybe after Woodbury…

He heard Rick calling him, shouting his name.  
He stood up, cracking his back.  
Three words. Eight letters.  
He was a coward. He knew, but that's as he looked down at her, and she nodded. He knew he was understood.

"Come back." She told him.

"Won't be much time when we get back." He looked down at her.  
"Justwanted…."

"I know." She stated.

"Go on." she told her.

With a groan, he bent over and kissed her forehead harshly before loping out of the cell, leaving a baffled and elated Carol in his wake.


End file.
